Fall Poetry: A Success Story Wreath

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Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things –

   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

      And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

                                Praise him.

~ Gerald Manley Hopkins

I was starting to feel self-conscious.  It seemed like everyone in the blogosphere had a garage-sale-or-thrift-store-"You'll-never-guess-what-I-found-today-for-a-steal-of-a-deal" story . . . 

Except me.

That is, until today.

I was driving past an affluent neighborhood on my way to an appointment when I saw a sign for a garage sale.  I was a few minutes early for my appointment, so I decided to take a peek.  Besides, I soon realized that this "garage sale" was two houses down from Donny Osmond's house and somehow feeling that neighborly with Donny was an opportunity I couldn't turn down.  

But I digress.

After perusing the offerings that were assembled on the driveway of the multimillion dollar estate, I realized I was WAY out of my league.  I saw designer couches for a small fortune, draperies and linens for hundreds of dollars, and a shiny sports car on sale for more than my annual income. 

As I went to leave, I caught a glimpse of a teetering pile of silver on a back table.  It was a stack of fifteen hors-d'oeuvres trays in different shapes and sizes.  I was relieved to discover that they weren't real silver because it meant I might have a chance of taking them home without having to take out a second mortgage on my home. However, the trays were thick and sturdy and embossed with beautiful designs, which didn't bode well for me.  I braced myself for the total as I asked the hostess about the price.

"Oh, those are my neighbor's," she said.  "She uses a caterer all the time and the caterer lets her keep some of the trays.  I'll give them all to you for 5 dollars."

I'm not sure which boggled me more---the thought of having a "regular" caterer, or the idea of tossing away beautiful servingware knowing that you would just get more of it at your next soiree.

I grabbed my wallet and handed the woman my meager 5 dollar bill and ran past the designer sofa and convertible sports car to my Toyota minivan before she could change her mind.

I then waved at Donny's house, and drove off.

After I got home, I picked one of the oval trays from the stack and decided that it would be the perfect addition to a fall wreath for my front door.

I wanted to put a plaque of some sort on my wreath to celebrate autumn, but I didn't want to go through the hassle of painting anything with chalkboard paint or stenciling letters.

So I went the easy route.

I took a bottle of fabric craft paint and wrote a little greeting on the tray.  (This is the same paint I use when writing on potatoes.)  After letting it dry for an hour or so, I simply wired the tray onto the wreath and hung it on the door.

Blessed Autumn indeed.

My only regret is that I didn't have room on the tray to write about my garage sale success story.   And how it all happened down the road from Donny.

Sharing at . . .

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